🔶Notice regarding a Hotfix preparation 🔸Stellar Blade team is preparing a Hotfix patch to address some issues in the main storyline block that may occur after Photomode 1.009 patch. 🔸If you attempt to force the quest progression by using Adam behind the Safehouse in Xion, it could cause gameplay to be blocked after the Hotfix patch is applied. We kindly ask for your patience and recommend waiting for the update. #StellarBlade# #PS5# #Update# #Hotfix#

🔸Added a new ‘Boss Challenge’ mode. Replay against defeated bosses in multiple settings. 🔸Unlock a new costume ‘Neurolink Suit’ by defeating all bosses in the new ‘Boss Challenge’ mode. 🔸Two new outfits from the “Kunoichi” series can be obtained at Adam’s safehouse. 🔸Fixed bugs such as unplayable sections, events not triggering, and trophies not being awarded. 🔸Added an auto-lock-on option when exiting ranged mode. 🔸Added option to always show the compass in HUD. 🔸Slightly increased the time limit for puzzles. 🔸Many other improvements have been made to the controls, balance, and more. 🔸And... #StellarBlade# #PS5# #Update#

PAKISTAN - A young girl of Hindu background named Reeta has been forced into conversion and marriage to a Muslim man. The girl insisting on going back to her mother, got a ruling by a local court to be taken to an Islamic "Safe House".

A German soldier stopped at the front of the line. He stared at the old man leading the children. He knew that face. The man was Janusz Korczak. The soldier had grown up reading his books. The guard leaned in and offered him a way out. Step aside. Disappear. Live. Korczak shook his head. He took the hands of the two children beside him. And he kept walking toward the train. That was the last offer. There had been many. Here's who he was. Janusz Korczak wasn't even his real name. He was born Henryk Goldszmit. A Polish Jew. A doctor. By the 1930s he was famous across Poland. A pediatrician. A writer of beloved children's books. A radio host. Everyone knew his voice. He could have had an easy life. Instead he gave it to orphans. In 1912, he built a home for Jewish orphans in Warsaw. Dom Sierot. The Children's Home. It was unlike anything in the world. The children ran their own little parliament. They had their own court. Their own newspaper. They were treated as people, not problems. Korczak had one rule above all. A child is not someone who will matter one day. A child matters now. He lived among them for 30 years. He never married. He had no children of his own. They were his children. Then the Germans came. 1940. The Nazis sealed 400,000 Jews inside the Warsaw Ghetto. A few city blocks. Walls. Starvation. Disease. Korczak moved his orphanage inside. He moved in with it. His friends begged him to run. He was famous. He looked Polish. He could pass. He could vanish onto the other side of the wall. He refused. Inside the ghetto, he fought for the children every single day. He begged for food in the streets. He carried sacks of potatoes on his old back. He wrote in his diary by candlelight, tracking how much weight each child was losing. He was starving too. Under 800 calories a day. His body was failing. He kept going. In July 1942, he staged one last play with the children. A story about a dying boy who is finally set free. A friend asked why that play. Korczak answered quietly. He wanted to teach the children to meet death without fear. He already knew what was coming. On July 22, the trains began. Day after day, thousands were marched to the Umschlagplatz. Packed into cattle cars. Sent to Treblinka. None came back. The resistance came to him one more time. Fake documents. A safe house. A way out. He said no. He would not leave the children to face it alone. On the morning of August 5, the soldiers came to the door. Korczak did not panic. He gathered the children. He told them they were going to the countryside. Fresh air. Open fields. He had them put on their best clothes. Each child carried a small bag. A favorite book. A beloved doll. Then 192 children and a handful of staff walked out into the street. Witnesses never forgot it. The children did not cry. They did not run. They walked in calm rows behind the old doctor, as if they were heading off on a trip. Korczak walked at the front. A child holding each hand. The smallest ones carried in his arms. They marched through the ghetto to the train. Three miles. He never let go. At the platform, the offer came one final time. And one final time, he refused. He climbed into the cattle car with his children. He was never seen again. Korczak, the staff, and all 192 children were almost certainly murdered the moment they reached Treblinka. Here's what makes this story unbearable. He could not save them. He knew it. There was no version of that morning where those children lived. So he saved the only thing left to save. He made sure not one of them walked to their death alone. Not one of them was afraid. Not one of them was abandoned. In the worst place human beings ever built, he gave them the one thing the Nazis could not take. A hand to hold. Today, Treblinka is a field of stones. 17,000 of them. A silent graveyard for nearly a million murdered people. Only one stone carries a name. It reads: Janusz Korczak, and the children. He had no children of his own. He died beside 192 of them. So that not a single one would face the end alone. He couldn't save their lives. He made sure they weren't alone. The least we can do is remember them. Share this so 192 children are never forgotten again. Like if his courage reached something in you. And in the comments, say his name — Janusz Korczak

She promised her twelve-year-old daughter she would be back before the movie ended. Then she walked out of the Paris cinema to warn her Resistance cell, was caught by the Gestapo instead, and spent the next twenty months trying to stay alive in Ravensbrück. Her name was Odette Fabius. She was born in Paris on August 15, 1910, into a wealthy assimilated French-Jewish family that had been in France for generations. Her father Robert Schmidt was a respected lawyer. Her mother came from a prominent commercial dynasty. She grew up in comfortable Parisian bourgeois circles — good schools, cultured summers, the specific social world of the French Jewish upper class of the 1920s. She married a French banker named Roger Fabius in 1928, when she was eighteen. Their only child Marie-Claude was born in 1930. By 1940, when the Wehrmacht occupied France, she was thirty years old. The Fabius family had every reason to keep their heads down. Assimilated Jewish families in occupied France in 1940 faced an escalating series of decisions, each one worse than the last. Register with the authorities. Wear the yellow star. Comply with the specific institutional apparatus that the Vichy government and the German occupation were building against them. Or resist. Odette chose the second option almost immediately. In November 1941, at thirty-one, she was recruited into the Alliance network — a French intelligence-gathering operation led by Marie-Madeleine Fourcade that fed direct military intelligence from the Free Zone in southern France to British Intelligence in London. Alliance operated primarily in and around Marseille. Members were assigned animal codenames. Fourcade was Hérisson — Hedgehog. The specific institutional operating principle was that no one in the network knew the real name of anyone else, so that if any one member was captured, the network could survive. Odette moved to Marseille to work. She spent 1941 through 1943 collecting intelligence, running couriers, sheltering fellow agents, and — as the German security apparatus tightened its grip on southern France — coordinating with London on air-drop landings for downed Allied pilots. Her twelve-year-old daughter Marie-Claude went with her. On the afternoon in question, in the early spring of 1943, Odette had taken Marie-Claude to a Marseille cinema. Marie-Claude was twelve. Odette was thirty-two. Halfway through the film, she leaned over to her daughter and told her she needed to run a quick errand. She promised she would be back before the film ended. She left Marie-Claude in the seat. She walked out of the cinema, into the streets of occupied Marseille, and toward the safe house where members of her Alliance cell were meeting. She had received urgent intelligence that the Gestapo was closing in on the meeting. She was going to warn them. She did not get there in time. She was arrested on the street by German security agents before she reached the safe house. She was interrogated for weeks in a Marseille prison. She was labeled — in her own subsequent trial file — a dangerous terrorist. She was held in total isolation. She gave the Gestapo nothing. Marie-Claude waited in the darkened cinema until the film ended and the lights came up. Her mother did not appear. She eventually made her own way home. Her father Roger, warned by the network of what had happened, took her into hiding immediately. Marie-Claude spent the remainder of the war under a false identity in the French countryside. She would not see her mother again for over two years. In April 1943, after two months in Marseille, Odette was transferred to Fresnes prison outside Paris — the main German security prison for political detainees in the occupied zone. She spent another eight months there, still refusing to name a single member of the Alliance network. On January 31, 1944, she was loaded onto a deportation train. The convoy she was on carried approximately one thousand women. Every prisoner number began with the digits 27. Hers was 27393. The train arrived at Ravensbrück concentration camp in northern Germany before dawn on February 3, 1944. Ravensbrück was the specific Nazi camp system's principal concentration camp for women. Over the course of the war, approximately one hundred and thirty thousand women passed through it. Approximately forty thousand of them died there. The remainder were selected for forced labor in the camp's associated munitions plants, medical experimentation subunits, or transferred onward to Auschwitz. Odette did not intend to disappear into it quietly. Within her first days at the camp she attempted to escape. Three days later she was recaptured. The punishment was fifty lashes with a leather whip in the camp courtyard while other prisoners were forced to watch. The SS officer administering the beating counted the strokes out loud. He was, on the recorded testimony of several fellow prisoners who witnessed it and survived, expecting Odette to scream, to beg, to give some sign of breaking. She made no sound. Not one, across all fifty strokes. When it ended, the officer reportedly demanded to know how she had stayed silent. Her answer, on the recorded testimony passed down by the survivors of her block, was five words. Je suis française. C'est tout. I am French. That is all. Eight days in an isolation cell followed. Then transfer to the Strafblock — the punishment barracks — where the specific mortality rate exceeded that of the rest of the camp. A fellow prisoner named Dorothea Binz-Schneidenbach, a Belgian artist, sketched her by candlelight in the days after the beating — thin, shaved, wounded, upright. That drawing survived the war. It now hangs in the Museum of Jewish Art and History in Paris. By the winter of 1944-45 Odette was failing. A French physician imprisoned at the camp — Dr. Anne Spoerry, who would after the war become one of the most famous flying doctors in East Africa — quietly took her into the camp infirmary and hid her there from January through April 1945. Spoerry protected Odette from the daily selections that were sending failing prisoners to the gas chambers at the neighboring Uckermark subcamp. That single specific decision by Spoerry is why Odette lived. On April 23, 1945 — days before the German surrender — the Swedish Red Cross negotiated the White Buses evacuation that carried surviving female prisoners of Ravensbrück out of the camp system and into neutral Sweden. Odette was in one of the buses. She spent the following month unconscious in a school in a small Swedish town that had been converted into a hospital. She lived another forty-five years. She was reunited with Marie-Claude and Roger in Paris in the autumn of 1945. She wrote a memoir titled Un lever de soleil sur le Mecklenburg — A Sunrise over Mecklenburg — published in 1986. She was made a Commander of the Legion of Honour. She held five separate French wartime decorations, including the Medal of the Escaped — awarded, fittingly, to those who had attempted to escape from a concentration camp. She died in Paris on August 19, 1990, at eighty years old. Marie-Claude, the little girl from the Marseille cinema, lived into her nineties. When she was asked, decades later, whether her mother should have taken the specific risks she took, whether the specific afternoon in the cinema was a mistake, whether a mother should have chosen the Resistance over her own child, she never hesitated. She said her mother could not have been any other way. She said that was simply who her mother was. Some people are taken from this world. A rare few refuse to be erased from it. Odette Fabius was one of them. If her story stayed with you, drop one word in the comments — Odette, Marie-Claude, silence, anything that comes to mind. Tap the like button so more people find this story. The page is small. Every reaction helps us keep telling stories like this one.

STATEHOUSE PRESS RELEASE PRESIDENT TINUBU CONGRATULATES KOLA ADESINA ON HIS BIRTHDAY President Bola Ahmed Tinubu warmly congratulates Mr Kola Adesina, renowned entrepreneur, energy-sector leader, and Group Managing Director of Sahara Group, on his birthday, August 12. In a birthday tribute, President Tinubu acknowledges Adesina's outstanding contributions to Nigeria's private sector over the past 25 years, especially his pivotal role in advancing investment, entrepreneurship and innovation in the nation's energy sector. President Tinubu notes Adesina's distinguished leadership as Chairman of the Board of Ikeja Electric and Egbin Power, along with his stewardship at Sahara Group, which have significantly advanced the growth and development of Nigeria’s energy sector and fostered greater private sector participation. The President also commends Mr Adesina’s commitment to nation-building, describing his career as a testimony to the vital role Nigerian entrepreneurs and business leaders play in driving economic growth, creating opportunities, and supporting national development. "As you celebrate your birthday, I commend your remarkable journey in entrepreneurship and your enduring commitment to Nigeria's economic development. Your contributions to the energy sector and the wider business community remain worthy of recognition," the President says. President Tinubu wishes Adesina continued good health, wisdom and fulfilment, praying that Almighty God will grant him many more years of productive service to humanity and the nation. Bayo Onanuga Special Adviser to the President (Information & Strategy) August 11, 2026

🇹🇷🇵🇸 Erdoğan calls Gaza the world's largest children's graveyard: "The genocide network has turned Gaza into the world's largest children's graveyard, where even kites are seen as a threat and are being banned." The kite image is built to travel, one detail carrying the whole indictment. And the speaker moves the needle as much as the words. A G20 head of state commanding NATO's second-largest army now uses "genocide network" as routine podium vocabulary... Rhetoric that got protesters branded extremists two years ago has become the working language of governments, and that migration from the street to the statehouse measures Israel's standing better than any poll ever could. Writer: Daniel